The SLUSHPILE Blog

Rebecca’s Number One Rule for Writing:

Leave your author ego at the door.

What does this mean, exactly? It means that if you pick up a pen (or more likely set your fingers to a computer keyboard) with a vision in your head of doing booksignings, winning a Pulitzer, and being hailed a genius at the craft, do us all a favor and get up and walk away.

In Stephen King’s book, On Writing, he says something that I whole-heartedly agree with: when you write that first draft, it has to be with the door closed and for no one other than yourself (although he recommends picking a one-person audience, in his case his wife). I would add that it has to be for yourself (or your one-person audience) and for the pure joy of writing.

If you’re thinking about booksignings, pulitzers, and being hailed a genius, you’ve already swung that door wide open, and believe me, all those faceless people now in your head that you’ve inadvertently invited into the creative process are going to have tons of suggestions and criticisms about what you’re writing and how to write it. Firmly tell them to beat it. This is your book, thank you, to be written as you see fit. They can all go write their own if they’re so good at it, instead of horning in on yours.

What if you do manage to pound out an entire manuscript with this clamoring hoard in your head? What if they are shouting out ‘huzzah’s’ as you write down a particularly masterful sentence or are bowing at your feet when you complete a passage that you are certain is the most beautiful and moving passage ever written?

Let me tell you something, I’ve seen the results of this writing, and it isn’t pretty. The entire book turns into an author’s self-gratifying exercise in his own ‘greatness’ and reminds me of somebody jerking off on the page. No one wants to read your masturbation, trust me.

Writing 1 (Part 2)

Well, now that you’re suitably horrified and disgusted; and I want you to be disgusted with that very icky image in your mind, so that if you sit down with your ego running the show, you’ll think of that image and STOP. You’ll walk away and think about what you’re doing, check your ego at the door and come back in the manner in which you should come back.

What is the manner in which you should come back? As a very small, very humble little mouse. You are about to embark on a journey with characters that are larger than life, and far bigger than yourself. If anything, you should be humbly, sincerely grateful that they have chosen to allow you, an insignificant little turd, to record their very important, going to live far longer than you, story.

If you have problems with being the insignificant little turd and your characters being the ones larger than life, you’re never, ever going to produce anything but a mid-level, gee–that was nice, quickly forgotten read.

Is their money to be made in that kind of writing: you betcha. And the probability that you’ll get a shot at making it via a large publishing house contract is higher. But that’s not the kind of writing I’m blogging about. Take a couple of writing classes and you’ll hit that level.

If you want more, if you have to be more of a writer than this, than stick with me. I’ll open your eyes, a bit, anyways.

Maybe one of you out there reading this will do massive booksignings, win a pulitzer and/or be hailed a genius: but just remember when and if that day comes, that your characters are who really accomplished this. You’re still just the little turd that is accepting it on their behalf.